


Promises

by Atom



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Feels, Bruce Has Issues, Bruce Needs a Hug, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:12:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atom/pseuds/Atom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4 times someone called Bruce a monster</p><p>+1 that they didn't</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

1.

The first time, Bruce was sitting on the kitchen chair, his mother's hand gently cupped around the side of his face. Even the rich scent of her lilac perfume couldn't take away the smell of the whiskey from the shattered bottle, or the taste of blood dribbling down his lip. On her knees, with a gash across her face and water in her golden eyes, she looked as if she was ready to break at the slightest touch. He wishes he could take it away, stop the tears that trailed down her face, stop the harsh words and the fierce blows. He tries every time, to take the bruises, the scratches, the scars - he can do it, pain is just a relative thing, and maybe he deserves it anyways. His mother, with her soft fingers, dark hair, and gentle words, she doesn't deserve it at all.

 

"I'm sorry." She says, holding him close. At that, he opens his mouth, because no, no, that's all wrong - she has nothing to apologize for. She didn't ask for a poisoned son, for all these punishments meant for him. Her lips rising at the corners stop any words he might say, and what would he have said anyhow? After all the forced smiles, this one seems to almost reach her eyes.

 

"This - this has to stop. I promise you, baby, it'll never happen again. I should have done this sooner." Bruce keeps quiet the whole time, as she gathers the scarce funds and the keys. He watches the curtains rise and fall, mostly closed except for the thin streak of light coming through the window. He thinks that it looks an awful lot like the inside of a closet door, and they leave.

 

They almost make it, in fact get so close that it feels like hope. So close.

 

"Where do you think you're going, whore?" The man sneers, stalking towards them with broad steps.

 

"Brian, please, we were just -"

 

"Just what? Running off with all my money?"

 

"Please-"

 

Bruce closes his eyes, waits for the blow that he knows will come, and there is a gasp, a crack, but there is no pain. He finally opens his eyes, and he knows it is his fault, his punishment for being born. Brian whips around, grabs him, digs his nails in around his neck. Bruce just lets him for a moment, but something lights up within him at the touch, and suddenly he's screaming and swinging and fighting and this time he's the one dealing the blows, the scratches, the curses and threats.

 

Officers come and seperate them, pulling the man towards the police van in cuffs, but all he does is laugh, like it's the world's greatest joke. He taps the little wound under his eye made by Bruce's hands, and he smiles.

 

"The two of us, son, are fine monsters indeed."

 

They are never able to fully wash her blood out of the concrete.

 

 

2.

 

Things get better from there, because they couldn't get any worse. His father is put in a mental hopstal, and into the past. He moves on (he tries), goes to college, smiles.

 

He even obtained a job with the military, which is where he meets her. Betty is beautiful, with bright eyes and hair like smooth chocolate, and incredibly intelligent. He doesn't know why she keeps talking to him, keeps pushing until he finds himself pressing his lips against hers, and then he doesn't care why. They take it slow, his hands wrapping around her waist and her fingers tracing the side of his jaw, their eyes and souls locking and melding together into hearts.

"Please don't leave." He murmurs, the soft wind lifting the folds of her hair.

 

"I promise, I won't."

 

Then comes pride, arrogance, and the moment where the bomb is finally complete. It's ready - he smiled at her, walked into the bunker, pressed the button for the countdown to detonation.

 

Of course the boy has to take the bet, has to run out on the testing grounds, and Bruce has to play hero.

 

He pushes the boy into the trench, and is caught by the enormous blast, the world folding in and ripping apart at the same time, and every muscle and tendon in his body tearing and growing and -

 

He wakes up in rubble, panics, runs, then wakes up again in ruins far away.

 

"Ww-aaa-kkke up." Her voice echoes and crashes against his head, each syllable as painful as a knife to the head.

 

"B-bruce. Wake up." He opens his eyes, then promptly turns to the side and throws up bile, retching until his stomach is finally drained.

 

"Betty..." Every movement burned, and everything before freaking out a few hours (days?) ago seems blurry and strained.

 

"You - you killed them. You killed all of them." There is horror in her voice, and he just doesn't understand, and so she explains it to him, how he turned into a great green thing. How he slaughtered all of the workers and a couple more, how he was shot at, outlawed.

  
Now a fugitive.

 

"I... I can't stay with you Bruce." He understands. He does. It just doesn't make it any easier.

  
"I can't fall in love with a monster."

  
He gets it, and moves on. ( He tries.)

  
3.

They find him on the Canadian road - where could he run? They shot him with enough tranquilizers to take down an elephant, and drag his limp body to a white room with white walls. He's somehow glad that it isn't dark.

 

They drug him, strap him to a table, and then it starts, even though at first he begs and pleads with them not to. The  _thing_ boils behind his eyes, but he can't let it go, can't let all these once innocent people die.

 

Acid burns his skin, knifes drive into his flesh, blood drips down onto the floor and they have to use hazmat suits to even step around him. Water fills his lungs, and needles constantly poke him, all as words drone -  _subject tolerant to pain, subject shows considerable regenerative abilities while in human form._

All the while, he makes every effort not to scream, because screaming always makes things worse.

 

The man in the camoflauge struts in, his white hair combed and his mustache twitching in amusement at Bruce's state.

  
"Looking good, Banner." He remarks, running his eyes over Bruce's bruised skin. Bruce scowls at him, snarling and spitting blood-filled spit, and he feels somehow as if his humanity was carved away, lost among the silver and white.

 

"I'm glad they were able to contain you. You finally made yourself useful - after all, this is the only thing a monster can really do good with, isn't it, Banner?" He slaps Bruce, hard, and suddenly the pressure in his head explodes.

 

The General survives the Hulk's rampage. The scientists don't.

 

4.

Bruce learns how to run, after that. Learns how to stay covered, stay quiet, stay alone.

 

He even makes it to the woods near a mountain, peace falling over him. A couple invites him to stay for a few nights, so he does, helping them with their chores in the mornings and forgetting about the rest of the world as he sleeps in comfort for the first time in years.

 

One morning, the older man - James - tells him that all in the area were informed about a fugitive. A runaway murderer, highly dangerous. He pointedly looks at Bruce as he talks, showing him a few images of the Hulk from grainy cellphones that he had apparently obtained from a few men at work.

 

"You get right on out of here, young man." He says sternly, opening the door. 

 

"Thank you for your hospitality, all these days." Bruce replies, because he's grateful, but this would never have lasted. The man pauses, looking remorseful.

 

"I'm sorry, son. We just can't afford to house a monster."

 

Bruce wasn't entirely honest towards the couple. He fingers the gun in his pocket as he walks away, wandering up the mountains until the snow reaches his knees. He stops, taking in the quiet, and - though it might just be a sign of his failing mind - he senses the vaguest sense of lilacs as he raises the barrel to his mouth. The cold metal tastes of ash, and he prays that it only will take one shot. The trigger clicks, and red explodes behind his eyes, a brilliant cacophany of noise ringing through him.

 

Bruce Banner dies that day, and is reborn at the bottom of the mountain, the bullet laying besides him and a few trees wrecked beyond repair.

 

So he moves on, helps people - its pointless, but still. He tries.

 

+1

They all throw away their shawarma wrappers, a group of sparkly superheros dragging their feet out the door. The Battle of Manhattan left them all extremely weary, but apparently not enough so that they couldn't eat. Tony comes up behind Bruce, clapping him on the shoulder as they walk out into the city air.

  
Bruce doesn't feel as tired as he should, doesn't feel as guilty as he should. Didn't do as much damage as he could of - did good.

 

"Do you remember everything, Bruce?" Tony asks casually, grinning at him.

  
Bruce smiles - he recalls the flash of red armor, the thought of  _catch him,_ the feeling of not being lost.

 

"I seem to remember accidentally, uh, tapping Thor."  Bruce looks around at the tall buildings, with their shiny windows and empty rooms, and he does remember - beyond the battle itself. 

 

He remembers broken bottles, waves of soft hair, knives and needles and pain.

 

So much pain. 

 

He remembers, and decides not to regret.

 

"You're a hero, Bruce." Tony says, laughing and walking ahead.  
  
  


 


End file.
